Intoxication
by Availre
Summary: Forget all that you think you know about Erik's motives of bringing Christine down to his lair. Did he love her? Yes, yes he did. Did he really consider what might happen if he brought Christine down? No, no he didn't.


Forget all that you think you know about Erik's motives of bringing Christine down to his lair. Did he love her? Yes, yes he did. Did he really consider what might happen if he brought Christine down? No, no he didn't.

Rummaging through some older sheet music, Erik groaned quietly. "Blast it, where is that score at?" he muttered angrily. He leafed through enormous volumes, and still couldn't find what he was looking for: something he had written after he first heard Christine sing. He had been so inspired after he heard her, he wrote the most beautiful song he had ever composed. Now, he was going to use it to inspire courage. To meet her face to face, if only he could find the blasted score! "Aha! There you are," he muttered, snatching it from underneath a leather-bound book. He placed it in front of his piano, hand stopped only half way through the first measure. He played it three different times, without the desired effect. He growled with frustration.

Standing up, he went to his small wine cellar and grabbed a crystal decanter, as well as a 1762 bottle of red wine and set down in his sitting room moodily. He had always thought that he had control over his emotions at all times, but the one thing he couldn't make himself feel was courage. Damn it all to hell. He poured himself a glass of the strong wine and sipped it in deep thought. There had to be a way to feel courage. Strength. Whatever the hell it was that he needed to feel at that moment. Before he knew it, the glass was empty, and he poured himself another. He sat there for hours, brooding and drinking. After several hours, the bottle was half empty, and Erik decided to have just one more glass.

After that last glass was gone, he felt something stirring within himself. Was that..? No, it couldn't possibly be… Courage? Ah, but yes, it was indeed courage. The very thing Erik needed to present himself to Christine. He stood up, and almost tripped over a piece of furniture that he forgot was there, and made his way up to Christine's dressing room. He reasoned that she would have just finished taking her last bow of the evening, and he would lie patiently in wait until she was in her dressing room.

The moment came soon enough, and just ask Erik was about to speak, the stupid fop entered. Oh, yes, Christine had told him about that boy, and Erik knew that he was sponsoring the Opera now, and the managers kept him, despite Erik's threats. He sighed, and waited for him to leave, and as soon as he did, Erik spoke.

"Christine, you did well. I am pleased." His voice sounded off… Like his words were being slurred. He also felt happier than he had in a while.

"Thank you, voice," she said meekly. "Is something troubling you? You sound different."

"Nonsense! I haven't felt better in ages." Since when did he open up like that? He didn't. Wouldn't. it was strange that he was acting like this. But Christine was speaking again, and he turned his attentions to her.

"Voice, if I may be so bold, will you never reveal yourself to me?" Erik laughed at that comment.

"Yes, child," his voice still sounded slurred, and he thought for a moment about why he might be acting so. He couldn't think of any good reason. "Turn your face to the mirror, and you shall see, for the first time." Christine faced the mirror with reverence, and Erik slid the door open. Christine gasped with excitement, and Erik decided to use his voice to lure her down.

"I am your Angel of Music. Come to me, Angel of Music." Christine took a step forward, and then another. "I am your Angel of Music. Come to me, Angel of Music." Erik grasped her hand and led her down the corridor. He felt clumsy, as if his legs had lead in them, which was preposterous, he knew. He thought long and hard about why he felt so… giddy. Then it hit him.

He must be intoxicated.

Blast it all, he was drunk. As hard as he tried, he couldn't get over the fact that he was drunk. He had never been drunk before in his life, and he found the prospect interesting. Being slightly clumsy and having somewhat slurred words were a small price to pay for happiness, he thought mildly.

He gently put Christine in the gondola, and paddled across the lake. She was completely transfixed, he noted with satisfaction. Just so long as she didn't find out about his… condition, tonight would be a success, and she would fall in love with him. OH, to have her love him as he loved her! What a privilege, he almost laughed aloud at the mere thought of being loved in return.

Upon reaching the house on the lake, Erik beached the boat, and stepped out, almost tripping again, and he hoped Christine didn't notice. She didn't. He decided to "turn on the charm," as it were, using the phrase as he had read it once in a book. He serenaded her with passion and fire, using words that came to him solely at that moment, and she was wooed.

He decided to show her the depth of his devotion: his mannequin. She looked at it for a split second, and then swooned. He caught her just in time and picked her up, pressing her against him so as to ensure that she didn't fall. He brought her to a bed in one of his spare rooms, and laid her down in it gently. He brushed back the hair from her face, and dared to press a kiss to her forehead. He went to try to get some sleep himself, and hopefully he would feel better in the morning.

Erik had never been more wrong in his life. He woke with a pounding headache, and every sound was enhanced sharply. He was also in a worse mood than normal. So when Christine came out, he was acutely aware of her. He heard the door shut, the rustling of her skirts, and her whispers.

"I remember, Angel, the kiss you placed upon my brow last night," she said wistfully. She stepped up to him, caressing the unmasked side of his face, tenderly, and he shut his eyes. Abrubtly, he felt his mask being peeled gently off his face, and he exploded.

"Damn you! How could you pry like that, Christine? Have you no respect for privacy? Didn't it ever occur to you that I might have a reason for hiding this mauled face? Did it? No, of course not! You're much too naïve to think that there could ever be something so hideously wrong with someone. I should have known better. I should have known…" he wept brokenly, sinking to his knees.

Christine gently handed him his mask, her eyes downcast, staring at the cold stone floor.

**So, I'm not really very happy with the way this turned out. It was originally supposed to be light, due to Erik's intoxication, but it didn't really turn out that way, thus my disappointment. *sigh* Oh well. I'll have to try again. Eventually.**


End file.
